I realize that I'm a few weeks behind here, but I can't miss the opportunity to tell you about the delicious pie that wasn't . . .
James, my housemates and I invited Abigail and her family over for a good old-fashioned Easter celebration. Egg-dyeing, candy-hunting and general tomfoolery.
I was excited to bake a 'real American' dessert for the occasion - pie. Since pie is an unknown entity in Nigeria, James had to bring me pie plates from home (along with Cinnamon Life cereal, Cheez-its, peanut M&Ms, lavender and a vegetable peeler). I proudly showed them to Abigail and assured her that my pie would knock her socks off. She would be converted to the Way of Dessert. But then, instead of baking a know-it's-going-to-be-good apple pie like a sensible person might, I decided to get tropical: I would bake a mango pie. A beautiful, tasty culturally-symbiotic pie!
Unfortunately, my pie was kind of yucky. It looked like a pumpkin pie, but tasted like a weird eggy mango custard. Good thing we had Starbursts to eat after the egg hunt! While the other Easter festivities were a roaring success, mango pie was not . . . so, lesson learned? Eat pies. Eat mangos. Separately.
(James claims to have liked the pie.
But he's very committed to Team Pie in the eternal pie vs. cake debate.)